


A Distinct, Nagging Memory

by Octotrooper



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Memory Loss, Music, Octarians - Freeform, Octo Expansion DLC Spoilers, Tartar sauce, wasabi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18955678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octotrooper/pseuds/Octotrooper
Summary: "CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR REBIRTH STATUS IS SUCCESSFUL. YOU ARE NOW A PERFECT BEING. YOUR PURITY GUARANTEES YOUR SALVATION DURING THE WORLD’S UPCOMING REBIRTH."(Warning: Contains heavy spoilers for Octo Expansion!)





	A Distinct, Nagging Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another story from an Octarian point of view, this one written with the same kind of crawling darkness one feels while playing Octo Expansion. This one contains some headcanon as well as a lot of canon bits that many people seem to have missed. 
> 
> I like this story a lot. If you do too, PLEASE leave a comment! Even "nice story" is better than nothing!
> 
> Enjoy!

Air. 

It’s been so long since I’ve felt air. Hasn’t it? I’m not sure. I’ve been suspended in a viscous green liquid for as long as I can remember. Was there something before this? There had to be.

My thoughts are foggy and my vision is blurred as a mechanical claw squeezed around my middle continues to lift me out of the ooze. The damp air around me begins to clear my mind and my sleepy state begins to tinge with panic. Who am I?  _ What  _ am I? 

Oh! I have legs! They feel very small, though. I’m not sure how easily I could walk around on them. Maybe I get around another way. Are these wings? No… they’re not light enough. They’re more like tentacles. I still feel like I could use them to help me fly, somehow, but how could that be? Wait, do I have tentacles on my back, too? There’s definitely a lot of suckers back there, and I think I can wriggle them around a little.

The claw places me on a floor made of cold tile, and a bright light shines directly in my eyes, followed by a blast of confetti. My face contorts. Cod, are my lips really as big as they feel? 

“CONGRATULATIONS!” a canned voice rings out from everywhere at once. “YOUR REBIRTH STATUS IS SUCCESSFUL. YOU ARE NOW A PERFECT BEING.”

I’m a perfect being? I wiggle my tiny legs again. Those certainly don’t feel perfect.

“Uhhh…I don’t think...” Whoooooooooa, my voice is so deep and gurgly. Is it normal for perfect beings to have this much ink in their throats?

“YOUR PURITY GUARANTEES YOUR SALVATION DURING THE WORLD’S UPCOMING REBIRTH. THANKS TO THE CALCULATIONS OF -” Garbled voices and static fill the air.

I hear the loud whirring of machinery, and suddenly I’m smooshed into a tiny glass box with a small monitor in front of my face. Images are being flashed across the screen at a rapid clip. The images are making my head feel funny. I’m not sure I like them. I can’t turn my body to look away, either. I’m not sure how long I’ve been in my box, but it doesn’t matter, because I never seem to get tired or hungry. I can barely remember what those things feel like. 

Remember. There was that word again. Was there something before this? There had to be.

-x-x-x-x-x-

I’m plopped out onto the ground, my mind abuzz with new knowledge. I know where we are, now. We are in underwater glass domes, in a beautiful paradise known as Kamabo. I know what we are supposed to do. We are supposed to defend the perfect home that our amazing Commander has given us. There are a lot of people who seek to destroy our perfect home. They are not welcome. They are Unclean.

I know what I am. I am a Sanitary Bomber. I’m tough and formidable, a bloated mass of tentacles and raw power. I must use the aviation and explosive technology provided to me by our wonderful Commander to destroy those who are Unclean.

My post is in the middle of a large platform floating high above the ground. I fly back and forth, glad that, as a pure being, my energy will never dwindle. I am strong. I am invincible. I am hearing nice music playing in the distance. Wait a minute.

Somewhere below me there’s the beep-beep-beeping of electronic music. Every so often there’s five specific notes - Dun. Dun. Dundundun. 

Ahh. It’s been so long since I’ve heard that. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I’d almost completely forgotten what it was like to...

Forgotten. That word means there must be memories tucked away somewhere in my brain. Was there something before this? There had to be. I’m almost certain of it now. 

I look around. The nearby Sanitary Troopers are riding their Nozzlepads around predetermined routes, paying me no attention. A Sanitary Sniper sits far off in the distance. Her goggles give her an enhanced range of sight, but she’s facing the opposite direction. I wonder if I could...?

No, no, the Commander wouldn’t like that. They wouldn’t like that at all. I am a Sanitary Bomber, and my purpose is to tirelessly defend.

Dun. Dun. Dundundun.

_ Sigh. _

I jump off the edge of the platform, using my heli-cap to slow the descent so that I don’t go ker-splat. Our glorious Commander had us all hooked up to an instant respawn system on the off-chance our bodies were damaged by the Unclean - but then the music might stop and I wouldn’t be able to find it again. I don’t want that to happen.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I’m hovering in the middle of the streets of a sprawling city. The buildings are stone, several stories tall, and jutting out from the ground at odd angles. Some of them have massive succulents growing out of them. There’s decorations salvaged from... somewhere else decorating everything. I know I’ve seen this kind of architecture before. Was it one of the images I saw in my box?

There are Cumber-folk here! They chatter quietly amongst themselves in small groups in a language I don’t speak. One of them turns towards me and extends an arm in greeting before going back to their group of friends. I’m very confused. They’re not the right color to be Pure, but they’re not attacking me. If they’re not hostile, are they still Unclean?

And there are Pure Beings here, too. Most of them look different than me, but they all have the same bulging eyes, the same thick lips, the same kinds of eagerly twitching tentacles. Some of them are talking with each other. Laughing, even. Small ones chase each other down the winding sidewalk.

This feels right. Defending Kamabo against intruders feels right, too, but there’s something about going back home after hard work that I’ll never get tired of. And I’ve always liked having a snack after a long day of flying. I’d like to munch on something spicy and green right now. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and shudder. What are these thoughts? Pure Beings like me never need food! We never need rest! We need to defend our home from the Unclean! Or else they’ll… 

They’ll....

What  _ was _ it that the Unclean were going to do?

I rack my brain for an answer but can’t come up with anything that makes sense. Would they destroy us? That’s impossible, our respawn system is flawless. Would they try to stop our way of life? Our entire way of life is defending against them, nothing more, nothing less. Without them, we would have nothing. Would they try to convert us back to being Unclean and deprive us of our happiness? That seemed like the right answer, but the Cumber-folk a few meters away from me definitely don’t seem unhappy. 

Dun. Dun. Dundundun. 

Why does that little tune make me feel so good inside? It’s coming from a nearby building. I have to find out what it is.

I enter the building and float up the staircase. There’s a smell hanging in the air - something with a very spicy bite to it. I immediately picture a green paste. Yum! I have no idea what it is. I lick my lips anyway. 

I reach the third story. The music is very loud now. It’s coming from this apartment for sure.

I raise a tentacle and knock on the door. Dun. Dun. Dundundun.

The music stops. I hear a shuffling, then footsteps. The door creaks open. I flinch.

Standing in the doorway is a Sanitary Amazon.

She’s only about half my size, but Amazons are the elite of Sanitary Warriors - nimble, versatile, and highly skilled, each trained to operate special weaponry much more powerful than my heli-cap. I really hope I didn’t make her mad - she could easily kick my butt! She looks up at me. 

“Oh. ” Wait, she looks nervous now. She’s biting her lower lip with her upper beak-tooth, and her head is tucked into her chest. She fidgets with her glasses. “I guess I was too loud, huh?”

“No…? No!” I say, raising both of my tentacles. “I was just, uh, passing through, and I heard your music and… it sounds lovely. Could you maybe play some more?”  The Amazon lowers her shades, revealing jet-black sclera and turquoise pupils just like mine. 

“You’re not here to put me back in my box?”

“Back in your box? What are you talking about?” I let out an anxious chuckle. 

“Oh, carp.” 

The Amazon grabs one of my tentacles and drags me into her room. There’s no bed or furniture, but the walls are covered with posters that have words on them that make no sense. When is Turquoise October? Are Chirpy Chips a type of food? Am I supposed to know what Squid Sisters are? Who the heck is DJ Octavio? 

The Amazon sits in front of a small screen with a long box covered in black-and-white rectangles attached to it. 

“They’re going to put you back in your box, y’know,” she says, brushing one of her tentacles out of her face and pressing a few of the white rectangles. Oh! That made a nice little melody come out of the screen. “They don’t like it when we come down here.”

“Where is here?” I ask.

“Dunno,” the Amazon shrugs. “I guess you could say it’s home. It feels like home, don’t it?” She presses a combination of buttons. Dun. Dun. Dundundun. She sighs and turns her head towards the window. “...that feels like home, too.” 

“But, what about the Unclean?” She slowly turns her head to look at me, her lips twisted in disgust.

“Does it really look like I give a barnacle’s behind about the Unclean?” she asks. “Look at what I’m wearing.” Ah. She’s wearing a baseball cap, a soft black shirt, and long, baggy pants. It’s not useful for fighting at all. It also looks very nice on her. “This whole room is full of Unclean artifacts according to that stupid Commander. Hang on.” She reaches next to her screen and pulls out a small, clear plastic bag. Inside are some dark, papery squares. “Here. Have a wasabi crisp. I wanna show you something.”

Wasabi. I have no idea what that is and yet I’m salivating at the sound of it. I pop one of the squares into my mouth and crunch down. 

WOW! My mouth is on fire, and that flavor! I never imagined that anything this wonderful existed!

“Isss soooooooooo good…” Actually, it’s a bit too spicy. My eyes are watering. I pop several more into my mouth anyway. 

“Yep, thought you’d like it.” One side of the Amazon’s mouth lifted in a cheeky grin. “Everyone down here does.’

“But… why?” I eat another square.  _ Crunch.  _

“Dunno. But I do know there was something before this. There had to be. Otherwise everyone in this city wouldn’t remember the same things.”

“And… any idea what that ‘something’ was?”  _ Crunch. _

“Not a clue.” Dun. Dun. Dundundun.

The squares are now all resting inside my belly. I lick some wasabi dust off of the tip of my tentacle. It feels strange thinking against the Commander’s wishes, but this Amazon is making a whole lot of sense right now. The buildings, the music, the food… I know it. I  _ know _ it! And I know that I know it. She knows it too. Maybe, if we got enough Pure Beings together…

The door to the room suddenly breaks off its hinges and slams against the floor. An entire squad of Sanitary Amazons file into the room and point their shooters at us. As I stare down the barrel of one of them, the word “Octoshot” flashed through my mind. My brow furrows. What does “Octo” mean, again?

“Sanitary Amazon eight-five-nine-seven,” one of them, an elite officer, barks. “You are required to return with us to the Kamabo facilities for further briefing.”

“Sh-shut your yap,” the musician spits back, her voice shaky and unsure. “I’m not one of your Amazons. I’m Dedf1sh. I’m j-just a civilian. Leave me alone!”

“Civilians do not exist in a paradise like Kamabo,” the elite Amazon says. Her lips twitch, as if she’s holding back a sick smile. “You are required to return with us to the Kamabo facilities for further briefing.” 

“Sanitary Bomber one-zero-zero-zero.” Another Amazon grabs my tentacle. “You are required to return with us to the Kamabo facilities for further briefing.” Ouch! She’s gripping too tightly!  I squirm a little in pain. She squeezes even harder.

“Can you at LEAST loosen your-”

_ CLONK! _

  


-x-x-x-x-

  


I must have hit the back of my head. It hurts so much. The rest of me doesn’t feel so great, either. I’m smooshed into a tiny glass box with a small monitor in front of my face. Images are being flashed across the screen at a rapid clip. The images are making my head feel funny. I’m not sure I like them. I can’t turn my body to look away, either. I’m not sure how long I’ve been in my box, but it doesn’t matter, because I never seem to get tired or hungry. I can barely remember what those things feel like. 

Remember. There was that word again. Was there something before this? There had to be. 


End file.
